Lacking Color and Speech
by Sky the wolfdog9
Summary: AU.  Oneshot.  Matthew Williams falls for the mute, colorblind, track star Francis Bonnefoy.  Franada, USUK.


** This idea came to me when I was typing the thirty sixth (?) chapter for 'Don't Let it Get to Your Head' when I made Francis a fast runner. Then I was like—what if he was mute? And then we were covering what caused colorblindness via genes and traits and stuff like that in Science, so then I was like—what if he were colorblind too? Lol, I'm such a horrible person…first I kill him and now I'm disabling him. Enjoy~**

**XXXX**

"I'm serious, he's like—the nicest guy you'll ever meet in your whole life," Alfred grinned, hiking his backpack into a more comfortable position on his back. "Artie met him when he first moved here three years ago from France and they were like, instant friends."

"Artie? You gave him a nickname now?" Matthew asked, hugging his text books closer to his chest—they were getting heavy…

"Well yeah, if we're gonna be boyfriends and shit like that, shouldn't we have nicknames? He called me Al one day too! Hah, I told him to start calling me that, but he refused," his cousin then proceeded with sulking to himself.

Alfred F. Jones was Matthew Williams's cousin, though many mistook the two for identical twins. Eventually, Matthew had decided to grow his hair out so people would stop mistaking him for Alfred—it rarely happened the other way around. It sort of worked, but people would slip up every now and then, they both shared the same English teacher and she mistook him for Alfred one day. Just a month ago, Alfred met Arthur Kirkland, a stubborn Brit who had moved in from New York. He had apparently moved from England to New York not too long ago.

The two got into a relationship and of course, with them being best buddies, Matthew began to feel a bit like a third wheel whenever he, Alfred and Arthur were together. Often, he'd just excuse himself and leave the two alone, sometimes, Arthur would excuse himself and Alfred would follow. It was kind of awkward most of the time too, even if it had been a full month and three days, they had yet to shake the uncomfortable atmosphere that would surface whenever the three were together.

Apparently Arthur knew a French boy around their age that had moved into the states from France three years ago and Alfred thought that Matthew would get along nice with him. So far, all Matthew knew was that his name was Francis Bonnefoy, he was the best on the track team and looked like a girl according to his American cousin. Alfred seemed to be hiding a few things from him too, but Matthew didn't mind—he didn't expect for him and this 'Francis' to get along at all anyways.

"Quit making that face! You gotta open up a bit more!" Alfred clapped Matthew on the shoulder with a grin. "I _know_ you'll like him! I'm serious—he's the nicest guy you'll ever meet in the entire world!"

"You already said that…and I really hope you're right," Matthew muttered to himself as they walked out of the school building and into the sporting grounds where a track field wrapped around a football field. When Matthew looked up, he spotted what looked like a girl at first jogging smoothly around the track, but soon registered that the 'girl' must be this Francis _boy_. He also spotted Arthur in the bleachers, sipping a half empty bottle of water.

As Alfred immediately bound over to his boyfriend, Matthew awkwardly approached the fence and rested his arms on it, watching the blond jog around the track. He did have a slight beard, so it was obvious that Francis was a guy, he was pretty slim too—probably from all of the running he did. With a small smile, Matthew waved shyly at Francis who spotted him and stopped his jogging. A wide, toothy grin surfaced and he jogged over to the Canadian at the fence, waving a hand enthusiastically.

"Hi uh, Al's been talking about you for the past few days and I decided to drop by and see who you were and…stuff…" Matthew laughed nervously and awkwardly. Why did everything that involved him become so awkward? "What's your name?" he decided to ask even though he already knew the guy's name.

The other wavy haired blond furrowed his eyebrows and looked over to Arthur and Alfred, clapping his hands three times. Having his attention caught, the Briton looked down at the two as Francis motioned for Arthur to come over. Matthew didn't exactly understand what was going on, but didn't voice his curiosity—he settled with furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Ah, hello Matthew, didn't know you'd actually come today, it's pretty hot out and Alfred said you didn't exactly like the heat," Arthur pointed out and Matthew huffed, fanning himself with his hand overdramatically.

"Thanks for reminding me…this _is_ Francis right?" he asked, motioning towards the track star standing on the other side of the fence. "Uh…not to be offensive, but what was the clapping about?"

Arthur glared at Alfred for a brief moment before sighing and looking back at Alfred's Canadian cousin. "I guess Alfred didn't tell you—he's mute…and colorblind, just so you know," he announced and Matthew's eyes widened in slight surprise and he unconsciously stepped away from Francis as if the other was actually offended.

"O-oh! No, no, Alfred didn't tell me that, sorry about that, sorry," Matthew apologized, glancing at Francis apologetically only to be met with a cheerful grin. "U-uh…I don't know sign language…"

"No problem—neither does he," Arthur shook his head as he jabbed a thumb in the French teens direction and Matthew was once more surprised at the revelation. "Parents didn't bother, so we came up with our own system. Oh and he's still learning how to understand English, so don't be confused if he doesn't know what you're talking about."

"O-oh…uh…" he looked at Francis once more to be met with the same grin. He held up once finger before jogging off likely, for one more lap. "That sounds troubling…"

"Yeah, but really, he doesn't even act like he's a mute. Or colorblind to top it off," Arthur sighed, leaning on Alfred. "God it's hot—anyways, he's just really nice and I think he needs a few more friends, nobody really likes talking to him because well…he can't exactly talk back," he continued, shaking his head slowly. "So I had him meet Alfred over here and apparently he told you about him."

"Well I thought Mattie would really like him—he needs more friends too. That Cuban guy is scaring me and Ivan kind of gives him funny looks," Alfred crossed his arms, using the tone a pouting child would. Matthew glared at Alfred briefly before looking back at the track as Francis rounded the second turn.

"Wow, he's fast," Matthew remarked and Arthur nodded his head.

"Yup, best on the team ever since they had this boy they nicknamed Rome with how, rich and athletic he was—Francis isn't rich, but he sure is athletic," Arthur pointed out just as Francis stopped by them once more, waving his hand once more in another greeting. "He only has a limited amount of gestures too—we're still trying to come up with things."

"Hey, he's got a track meet tomorrow Mattie, wanna come watch? You two can hang out too~" Alfred asked with a large grin stretching his lips—the usual. "Hah, I can just tell, you two will be like, best buddies or something," Alfred grinned, the look he was giving Matthew indicating that he meant something more than just 'best buddies'. "So Artie, when's another game? You were a kick ass goal keeper last one and I wanna see more!"

"Ugh, it's on Friday right after school, so you'll have to drive straight from there to the field at another one okay?" Arthur huffed, leaning slightly away from Alfred who had just been excitedly talking into his ear almost literally.

"Awesome! So tomorrow, we're gonna go see Francis's track meet and we'll come to your game the day after that—cool?" he grinned, tugging Arthur closer to himself once more, the distance the Briton having created in between them now in vain. "Are you fine with that Mattie? Francis?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Matthew nodded his head a bit shyly as Francis mirrored his gesture, though, a bit more enthusiastically than the Canadian did.

"Great! Come on guys, let's go grab a snack and talk or something like that!" Alfred laughed loudly as he drug Arthur away from the courtyard, the Brit pouting to himself. Matthew smiled at his cousin's excitement and followed, Francis jumping the fence and following after Matthew. Matthew was about to ask Francis something when he remembered that the French teen was unable to reply verbally, so he held tight to his words. This was kind of awkward.

Eventually, he couldn't help but talk to the athlete following behind him. "So uh…what's France like? Did you live in Paris or something? God, who am I kidding…" he shook his head and looked over when he heard Francis jogging up to him so that they were side by side. He grinned and gave a thumbs up in reply and Matthew smiled, a bit surprised about Francis not being offended. "So…was it warm in the summer?"

A nod.

"How about winters?" Matthew then asked and he watched as Francis tapped his chin, thinking over how he should reply. He then held up four fingers with his right and his left index finger. It took Matthew a moment to understand what Francis was saying. "Forty one Fahrenheit? Like, average?" a nod. "_In the winter_? Goodness, I thought that it'd be at least a bit colder than that that time of year—I mean, it's almost level with Vancouver in Canada!"

Francis grinned toothily at that. Even though the athlete was mute, Matthew didn't find their 'conversation' as empty as he once thought it would be. When he first learned that some people couldn't talk back when he was in sixth grade, Matthew had assumed that they were kind of empty and boring. Francis wasn't though—he was open, cheerful and very expressive—probably even more than Alfred, but it got his point across.

"Al's got an American football game over the weekend, wanna come? He and Arthur are going obviously," Matthew then offered, saying American football as a 'just in case'. "He's really good—got the perfect build for it too."

Francis nodded his head and then raced forward, pretending to throw a football. Happily, he looked over his shoulder, waiting for the grinning Matthew to catch up with him with his slow pace. They continued walking together, Matthew's eyes on Francis the whole time for two reasons. The first being so he knew what Francis was 'saying' and secondly…well, he was just appealing to look at. That made him blush slightly.

"Hey uh…not to offend you or anything, but I've been curious about it and stuff…what color's the grass or the sky to you?" Matthew then asked, motioning to the grass below and the sky above them. "Oh uh…never mind, that must be hard to explain and uh…I-I won't say any more…" he shook his head, feeling shameful of himself of intruding like that. He looked back at the French teen when he felt a hand gripping his shoulder lightly. Francis was smiling still and Matthew simply wondered if anything upset the athlete at all.

Francis pointed at Matthew, then made a hand gesture that once would use with sock puppets, held up two fingers and then halted, figuring out how to motion out the next word he was trying to say. Matthew understood what the French teen was trying to say though and with a smile, he shook his head. "Yeah, yeah…I talk too much. I don't really, but this is the most I've ever spoken to someone recently who isn't Alfred..."

The athlete cocked his head to the side and sent him a confused expression, Matthew getting that he was asking Matthew why what he said was the case. "Normally, I'm just really quiet and quite the introvert according to Al," he started before looking at the wavy haired blond. "But I like talking to you," he concluded with a slight blush and Francis grinned slyly at the praise. The French teen pat his shoulder before running ahead of him and jumping onto Arthur's back, surprising the soccer player enough for him to topple over.

Alfred began laughing as Arthur wailed at Francis, demanding a good reason why he did what he did and seemingly forgetting that the French teen couldn't reply. It was likely that Arthur vented on Francis often—it did sound kind of selfish, but Arthur probably did because he knew Francis couldn't talk back. Matthew shook his head—no, that didn't sound like Arthur at all actually; that was a horrible thing to do—take advantage of one's disability. Kind of like doing the same thing to a deaf person because they wouldn't know what you were saying (unless they knew how to read lips, which was very likely).

III

"And Artie totally tripped over that wire, I swear—I saw it with my own eyes!"

"I did not trip you sodding git!" Arthur barked, swatting Alfred on the upper arm. The American simply laughed gleefully at being able to pester his boyfriend so easily, yet still be able to keep him for himself. He probably didn't show it, but he knew Arthur would never leave him. "Ugh! Sometimes I really question my preferences!" Arthur grunted, crossing his arms heatedly as Alfred continued to laugh at the Briton.

"I love you too~! Hey Mattie, how's the cookie? Can I have some? Please~?" Alfred changed the subject and brought his attention to the rather delicious looking cookie in Matthew's hands. "I'm running short on cash, so I couldn't buy one—could you share please?"

"No way, I paid a good dollar for this," Matthew huffed, obviously joking as he broke off some of the cookie for Alfred.

"Don't give him any Matthew," Arthur sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. Matthew ignored the Brit's instruction and handed the piece to Alfred who happily snatched the treat from his cousin's hand and immediately stuffed it into his mouth greedily. Arthur scoot his chair an inch away from Alfred's as if he were trying to get away from the mouth full of food to his left. "How have you handled him for so long?"

"Uh…he's tolerable," Matthew shrugged his shoulders and Alfred grinned, mouth still half full. He threw an arm around Arthur's shoulders and pulled him closer, happily declaring Arthur as his 'bestest buddy in the whole wide world that he might just have to call his boyfriend'. Arthur stuttered at the open declaration, angrily pointing out that other people could've heard him and blushing lightly while he was at it.

Matthew glanced over at Francis, who, for once wasn't smiling, though the second Matthew did catch the small frown, the French teen grinned at him. Blinking in slight confusion, Matthew ignored it at first and returned to talking with the couple in front of him—at least he didn't feel like a third wheel as badly as he used to now that Francis was here.

Arthur seemed to notice the slightly lonely look Matthew had caught on the French athletes face and furrowed his large eyebrows slightly in concern. "Hey Francis, are you okay?" he asked, brining attention to the mute who waved his hands hurriedly that likely meant 'nothing's wrong, you can keep talking', a nervous grin settled on his lips.

"C'mon Artie, you're just seeing things, Frenchie's probably the happiest person I've ever known," Alfred grinned broadly. "Leave him alone, he has a mother."

"Yeah, but not a very good one," Arthur muttered under his breath just quietly enough so Francis and the Canadian sitting next to him weren't able to hear his statement. "A-anyways, Matthew, you said you and Francis will come to Alfred's football game?"

"Oh yeah! I thought that'd it'd be a good idea since we're all going to each other's sporting events. Francis said he'd go too, well, not—never mind," Matthew shook his head. He was now a bit more careful of what he said after confirming mentally that Francis probably was offended by all of this talk about him as if he weren't there. Sometimes though, it didn't feel like he was there and that was a sad thought. Maybe he was lonely, Alfred did mention that Francis needed to meet more people, so maybe that suggested that the French teen didn't know many people outside of Arthur and Alfred. "Hey Francis, would you be fine with me coming over tonight? Like, have a sleep over?"

Alfred snickered to himself and whispered something to Arthur unbeknownst to the other two as Francis tilted his head, a look of slight surprise on his face. Matthew smiled his friendliest smile and nodded his head. "Yeah, it sounds like a good idea, don't you think? Or you could come over," he then offered and Francis nodded his head at the alternative choice. "Cool, when do you think would be a good choice?"

Francis thought over it for a moment before holding up seven fingers, a small, questioning grin stretching his thin lips. Matthew nodded his head with a smile of his own at the reply. "Yep, that sounds fine with me," he confirmed and Francis nodded his head and pat Matthew on the shoulder.

III

Matthew held the door to the front of his house open as Francis stepped in, a bag slung over his shoulder. With a sigh, he seated himself heavily on the couch in the living room as Francis took his shoes off. "Well, mom was fine with it, not sure about dad, but he normally doesn't care—he's out of town at the moment too, so don't worry about the parents thing," Matthew reassured in an absentminded way, waving a hand over his head. "Just set your things at the front door, we can move them into the guest room later—you play video games?"

It was strange, they'd only known each other for a few hours and Matthew had already invited the French athlete over to his place for a sleepover. It was a big step forward for him and likely Francis giving that they both seemed to lack a social status. Was he moving too quickly?

Francis seated himself next to Matthew, glancing at the video game controller in the Canadian's hands with a slightly intrigued expression. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked around the living room before holding a hand out, palm facing the ceiling as he imitated writing on a note pad. How come Matthew hadn't thought of that earlier? "Sorry about that, didn't occur to me..."

He returned with a medium sized notepad in his hand along with a pencil, handing them to the French teen who scribbled onto it quickly.

_ Iv seen them, but never actuale plaid one._

Matthew was about to question Francis's spelling when he reminded himself that he was a mute that had just come in from France. From what he could see right now, Francis likely didn't write that often, for his handwriting was almost as sloppy as Alfred's. But all of that wasn't a problem at all.

"Oh, I can teach you—these are really easy to learn, promise," Matthew smiled at Francis as he handed the mute a second controller that Alfred had just recently forced him to buy. He popped in a game and eventually, they were so absorbed into beating each other's skulls in on the fighting game that before Matthew knew it—when he glanced at the clock, it was midnight.

"Shit, uh, Francis, we gotta stop and go to sleep—it's already midnight," he held up his hand so Francis could see the grey wristwatch wrapped around Matthew's left wrist. "Come on, let's get your stuff into the guest room," he continued hastily, jumping over the back of the couch and jogging over to the bag Francis left at the front door. "Ugh, sorry about that, I guess we were just having so much fun and stuff—time sure does fly doesn't it?"

He shook his head as he pushed the door to the guest room open. "Sorry if it's kinda dusty—haven't used it in a while and mom's cleaning tomorrow," he apologized as Francis followed Matthew further into the room. He grinned and seated himself on the bed, bouncing a bit before falling onto his back, twirling a finger in the air. Matthew had no idea if Francis was trying to tell him something, or if he was just doing it because he could.

"So, do you need anything else?" Matthew smiled shyly, clasping his hands together. Francis shook his head and Matthew nodded his. "Okay, that's good, night."

Francis gave him a small wave as Matthew turned to leave the guest room. With a sigh, he headed over to his room which was just down the hall. If they knocked on the wall the beds were pushed up against, they could clearly hear each other, but that'd be it. Alfred and Matthew used to talk to each other through a small hole in the wall, but he obviously couldn't do so with Francis—the talking part.

Sighting tiredly, he entered the bathroom and picked up a red and white toothbrush. He looked into the mirror, noticing that his cheeks were slightly pinker than normal and rubbed them in a dumb attempt to get the blush to go away. He then smiled and began uncapping the toothpaste bottle. He really liked Francis, that's what he could conclude at the moment. A mute, colorblind boy from France that probably understood half the things he said. It was strange, but he still got along with him better than he'd originally assumed—all he had to do was avoid large words that confused even himself.

As he entered the kitchen that following morning, Matthew spotted Francis sitting at the table, likely thinking over the bowl of nearly untouched cereal he had fixed for himself. "Good morning," he sat in the seat across from Francis who nodded his head and smiled at Matthew. "So, did you sleep fine? Hopefully all of that dust didn't bother you…"

Francis shook his head. "Oh that's good," Matthew glanced at the digital clock the microwave displayed in glowing green numbers. "It's kind of early and mom seems to have already left for work…do you want to do anything specific or should we just chat?" Francis flapped his fingers in that sock puppet motion and Matthew nodded his head. "Just chat? I'm fine with that. What's your first period for school?"

The athlete looked around before getting up, opening a drawer that he had figured out held all of the silverware and took out two spoons. He then drummed them in midair, grinning at Matthew. "The Music Café (1)? Oh, you're so lucky you got that one…" he smiled and shook his head. Even though many might have not guessed that one, it was pretty obvious if you knew what it was. "Am hearing a few kids talking about it and I'm starting to regret not signing up. How about second? Or, just tell me all of them."

Nodding his head, Francis held up two fingers before holding out his hand and pretending to write on it. "English class?" Matthew assumed and Francis shook his head. He pointed at his hand before repeating the gesture. It took a moment for Matthew to realize that Francis was asking for the notepad. "Oh! Sorry about that."

When he returned with the notepad, Francis scribbled the division, multiplication, addition and subtraction symbols. "Math. Are you in geometry or algebra two?" Francis held his hands in a position that made a triangle in the middle of them and Matthew nodded his head. Geometry was the answer. Francis then held up three fingers to indicate that he was moving on. He began jogging around the kitchen table, Matthew watching the French teen. "You still have to do phy ed?"

Francis stopped and waved his hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "So you signed up for it?" a nod. "That makes sense," Francis continued with holding up four fingers, walked over to the notepad and wrote 'English' on it. Matthew nodded again and Francis continued with holding up five fingers. He pretended to be placing goggles over his eyes before moving his hands back and forth as if he were holding test tubes.

"Is that physical science or biology?" Matthew asked. If you failed a class one year, you had to take it the next along with everything else that was required for that following year. What a hassle. And with the motions Francis was making, it indicated physical science since that's what they mostly did in that class freshman year.

Francis held up two fingers, and Matthew nodded—Biology. Francis continued with the remaining two classes which were health and US history. After that, Matthew had gotten up to pour himself a bowl of cereal, picking up his cell phone on the way. Flipping it open, he saw that Alfred had sent him quite a few texts—he ignored them though, he could talk to Alfred later.

III

"Dude, what's up, you never _not_ reply to my texts!" Alfred piped as he and Matthew strolled down the halls to the sports field once the school day was out. They never saw each other during school hours, which was why Matthew was getting an earful at the end of the day. "Did you forget about me because of Frenchie? Oh come on! Tell me please~? Did you just forget your cell at home and went out to do something or something like that?"

"No, I was just teaching Francis how to play video games for five hours straight," Matthew muttered and Alfred sent him a distraught look.

"Wh-what? You could've invited me over! Video game marathons are the best! Especially with multiple people! Why didn't you call me over? You should've Mattie, how dare you!" Alfred went on and on and Matthew really wanted to hit his cousin and tell him to put a sock in it. "Mattie, you're such a meanie~!"

"Am, not, now get off of me," Matthew muttered as he shoved Alfred off of his shoulder, the American having decided to hang himself on there. Alfred crossed his arms and muttered under his breath about Matthew being a 'cranky old man' before bounding ahead when he spotted Arthur on the other side of the double doors.

"Artie~!" Matthew watched as Alfred almost literally tackled Arthur, pulling him into a tight hug that might've just been too tight. He watched Arthur wail and attempt to push the clingy American off of him as he stopped next to the two, placing his hands on his hips. "Ha, ha! You'll never escape!" oh, how true that was, unfortunately for the Briton.

Looking over to the track field, Matthew spotted Francis sitting a bit of a distance from the rest of his team, staring up at the sky. He looked as if he were examining the clouds and looking up, Matthew noted that there were no clouds. Jogging over to the fence, Matthew called out for the French athlete, catching his attention. Francis grinned and waved at Matthew who returned the gesture happily as Alfred drug a still cussing Arthur over to his Canadian cousin. "Why's he sitting away from the group? Artie, struggling will do nothing for you~"

"Hell yes it will!" the Briton retorted and continued to flail in Alfred's strong grip.

"I think it's mainly because he doesn't feel like he fits in or something like that," Matthew pointed out with a shrug of his shoulders. "But yeah, I think he should at least sit a bit closer to them, coach's giving him a strange look."

Just as Matthew said that, the coach waved Francis over and the French teen hesitantly stood up and jogged over to the lean man. There was a bit of talking that Matthew couldn't hear before Francis just as hesitantly as before, sat down where he was standing. "Yeah, you can definitely tell he's not comfortable."

Alfred hummed in response and Arthur finally managed to wiggle out of Alfred's hold. "Hah! You were wrong Alfred," he huffed, panting slightly. "What're going to do now _huh_?" he continued, holding his head high as he crossed his arms. Alfred simply grinned and Arthur took the cue to run.

"Ugh, those two…" Matthew muttered to nobody in particular as Alfred and Arthur disappeared under the bleachers. Looking over, he spotted one of the teams they were going to run against approaching the track field, bags slung over their shoulders. They wore orange and white, so Matthew assumed that they were the rival school. Three or four other schools were supposed to arrive according to what Arthur had told him too, so they still had a bit of time before the thing really started. Looking over to the bleachers, Matthew called out for the two blonds that were probably doing 'things' behind there. "It's going to—oh never mind," he waved a hand in the air carelessly.

He started for the bleachers, finding quite a few people already in them. Matthew normally sat alone in an area where not a lot of people resided during sporting events he was drug off to or lunch. He just felt more comfortable with an unnecessary amount of open space around him. Resting his elbows on his knees, he watched the two teams prepare for the first run. Matthew slightly jumped when he heard a loud bang and looked down, assuming that Alfred or Arthur hit one of the supports that held the bleachers up.

Matthew then began to stomp on the metal below his foot and hoped that Alfred and Arthur could hear him. "You two, get up here before you get yourselves in trouble!" a moment passed before Arthur came bounding up the bleachers breathlessly, Alfred not too far behind.

"Okay, okay! Alfred stop!" Arthur barked, holding his hands out, the two of them panting heavily. "Calm down," he continued before rubbing his head. "Ouch—that's going to leave something ugly…"

"I _did_ say sorry didn't I?" Alfred's voice was matter-of-fact. He then seated himself heavily in the bleacher below Matthew. "Sit down Artie, let's watch some gazelles."

"That's a strange way to put it," Arthur pointed out as he seated himself next to his boyfriend.

A bit of time passed before the rest of the teams arrived and soon enough, they were getting ready to run. They watched the first round start, a blank shot being fired in the direction of the sky. The kid for their team was basically on par with the other competitors, just barely able to inch ahead of them from what Matthew was seeing. Alfred was a loud spectator as well clearly. When Francis was up against likely the best of each of the teams, Matthew leant forward and watched the man shoot another blank.

Once they took off, Matthew muttered words of encouragement under his breath. Obviously Francis wouldn't be able to hear him, but Matthew couldn't help it. It didn't really look like Francis needed it either with how easily he was getting ahead of their opponents.

"Damn, he's fast!" Alfred whooped, standing up and waving his hands happily in the air. "Go Frenchie! You can do it!" he laughed gleefully. Francis briefly looked over his shoulder to grin at Alfred before snapping back to attention. Arthur grumbled under his breath about Alfred being loud and obnoxious before tugging Alfred back onto his bottom. "Ah~" he sighed happily, pulling Arthur closer to his side. "They have no chance against Francis."

"Yeah, I never doubt him," Arthur said confidently.

When the track meet was over, Alfred, Matthew and Arthur went down to the track field once almost everyone had left. They watched as Francis's coach spoke with said French teen, a proud grin stretching at his lips. He then motioned to whoever was left, likely asking him why he didn't sit with the rest of the team whenever they were together. Francis obviously couldn't reply and his coach clapped a hand on his small shoulder, making Matthew realize just how frail Francis was. He stumbled slightly before grinning sheepishly at his coach and turning to grab his stuff and trotted over to his new friends, waving happily.

Matthew returned the gesture almost shyly while Alfred bound over to the French teen, greeting him a bit more enthusiastically than Matthew or Arthur. "Great job Francis! Dude, you're super fast!" he grinned broadly. The next thing Francis did confused Matthew a bit—he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something before shutting it immediately.

Blinking, he leant closer to Arthur. "Uh…did he just…try to talk? Or was it just me?"

Arthur's eyebrows rose and he sighed. "So you noticed."

"Well…not until just now…but yeah, didn't he just try to say something?" Matthew asked, curiosity now eating at him.

"Yeah, well…" Arthur sighed, shook his head and raked a hand through his choppy blond hair. "He…he _was_ actually able to talk but that was _way_ before his parents even considered moving here," Arthur answered, glancing at Francis sympathetically before looking at Matthew. "He got a really bad infection at five according to him and…" he trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows as if he were trying to find the right words to say. "I don't really know what happened, but all I know was that they did something that made him lose his voice…obviously had to do with his vocal cords…"

"Oh…I wonder what he sounded like…"

"He was five," Arthur pointed out and Matthew shook his head with a 'but still'. With a small smile, Arthur looked back at Francis and Alfred who were currently approaching them. "Yeah—I guess you can't help but be curious."

III

The next day, Matthew was muttering to himself about when to arrive to Arthur's soccer game as he messed with the folders in his arms. "Ugh, damn it," Matthew muttered when a folder fell out of his arms, papers falling out and scattering about the floor. "This is such a pain…" he growled as he bent down to gather the papers. He straightened up, packing them into the folder once more before stopping what he was doing when he heard a few kids laughing just around the corner.

"Hah, ey girl, don'chya talk?" one voice snickered. "Here, lemme take those for ya—whoa! Sheesh, I'm just being friendly!" the voice, a boy's, sounded amused despite his words.

Blinking, Matthew peeked around the corner and felt a cold anger envelope his body when he saw three kids flirting with Francis. Apparently Francis had shaved last night and three guys assumed that he was a girl now. Balling his hands into tight fists, Matthew stepped around the corner. "H-hey!" he wasn't so great at this kind of stuff.

"Hm? Oh another girl? Your voice's kinda low missy~"

"I-I not a girl!" he resisted the urge to stomp his foot on the ground. Ever since he had decided to grow his hair out, people mistook him for a girl as well. The face the guy made was rather priceless and Matthew just wished that he could've snapped a photo of it—the look of surprise, disgust and just pure confusion all mixed together perfectly. One of the guys snickered at his buddy's mistake. "A-and Francis isn't a girl either!" that shut him up.

Just then Francis bolted for seemingly no reason in Matthew's mind. "W-wait!" he called, shoving past the three dumbfounded teens. It was obvious he would never ever be able to catch Francis, even in his dreams, for the other wavy haired blond was already turning the next corner. "Francis!"

He rounded the corner, Francis not in sight. Instead, he collided with his cousin. "Whoa! What's up, what's up? Dude, I just saw Frenchie come by like the world was ending—what the hell's going on?" he asked, grabbing Matthew's shoulders tightly and shaking him lightly. Matthew took a moment to catch the little breath he had lost from the sudden run and tried to look over Alfred's shoulder.

"S-some guys were flirting with him because they thought he was a girl and then he just ran!" Matthew answered frantically before being shaken more roughly by Alfred.

"Slow down Mattie! You'll never catch him okay? Come on, we can try to find him after school, got it?" Alfred reassured. "Go to class or whatever you were out of class for, you'll get in trouble or something like that if you don't…" he then continued and Matthew forced himself to calm down. He didn't know why he had become so bent on catching the track star, but all he could conclude, obviously, was that Alfred was right.

Letting out a huge exhale, Matthew relaxed the best he could. "Okay, okay, I'm just freaking out right now for some reason…just standing up to those guys was quite the adrenaline rush…"

"Hah, you're such a wuss," Alfred grinned and pat Matthew on his shoulder. "Now go before your teacher harasses you with questions."

"True, okay I'm going Al," he turned and took a different route to his destination so he wouldn't run into those three boys. He'd probably get an earful.

III

Matthew searched the parking lot for any sign of Francis—normally the French teen would be with Arthur since they both shared the same last period. He waved the Briton over when he saw that he lacked a companion. "A-Arthur! Have you seen Francis at all?"

"Well yes I have, but he ran off the second class ended…" he shook his head, stopping next to Matthew, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. "What happened? He seemed a bit troubled…and angry…"

Angry? Matthew licked his lips nervously—did he do something? "O-oh…Francis was being uh…I don't want to say bullied, so I'll say he was being bothered by three guys that thought he was a girl. I was there and told them that he wasn't and he just…ran," Matthew explained, sounding nervous. "I tried to run after him, but obviously I'd never be able to catch him and Alfred stopped me in the middle of the hall…" he continued.

Arthur hummed in response and glanced over to his soccer team when a Japanese boy Matthew had seen Alfred hang out with every now and then waved Arthur over, a small smile stretching at his lips. Arthur waved back and held up one finger in a gesture before looking back at Matthew. "He's probably frustrated that he couldn't talk back—listen, let's just give him some space, sometimes he just really gets gloomy over his muteness. Al hasn't seen it yet, that's probably why he told you about him being a really nice guy—and _don't_ tell him I called him Al."

"Hah…I won't. And yeah, I guess I can understand—I mean, not from experience, but I'd be really sulky over not being able to talk back to a whole bunch of guys that thought I was a girl…they thought I was a girl and I had to bust it to them…" Matthew explained and Arthur hummed again.

"Well, if Francis already headed home, you can either hitch a ride with Alfred or go home—your choice," Arthur waved a hand in a dismissing fashion with a smile. "But if you do find Francis, please ask him if he's going to be at the game, Alfred might worry."

"Okay…" Matthew nodded. Alfred didn't seem like the kind of person to worry over someone like Francis, but then again, the two were really good buddies from what Matthew was observing. Arthur turned and trotted over to his soccer team who were already getting ready to board the bus, chatting with each other animatedly.

With a smile, Matthew briefly thought back to when the hockey season was first starting—even though he was kind of awkward at first, Matthew had quickly warmed up to his hockey team. He never really hooked up with any of them as friends, but he really enjoyed laughing with them and playing pranks on each other. He was pranked quite a bit himself, but could always laugh at it—he never once remembered being angry or sad about it.

He searched the parking lot for Alfred and hopefully Francis. About five minutes passed when he received a text from Arthur.

**Oh, and if you do find Francis and he doesn't want to go, turn on some music and just dance. He really enjoys dancing.**

Matthew smiled at the tidbit and sent a reply thanking Arthur for the advice. Stuffing his phone into his pocket, Matthew trotted over to the second parking lot, finding Alfred sitting in the bed to his father's old truck, gulping down a Coca-Cola. He waved at his American cousin just as he knocked back the rest of the drink. "Oh—sup Mattie! Have you seen Francis?"

"No, Arthur said he ran off somewhere," Matthew sighed, jumping up into the bed of the truck as well. "He's just a bit upset over the thing that happened earlier," he continued and Alfred nodded his head, crushing the distinguishing red can in his hands before tossing it onto the floor of the bed.

"M'kay, so are we gonna go or are we gonna look a bit for Frenchie? Artie's game starts directly after they warm up," Alfred asked as he jumped out of the bed of the truck and opened the back door, the front already open. He pulled out another cold can of Coca-Cola, Matthew assuming that his cousin had a cooler in the back seat.

"I think we should at least look for Francis—I'll text him, he gave me his contact yesterday as we were doing homework together," he suggested, pulling out his phone.

"Why does he even have a phone?" Alfred asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Isn't he a mute? 'Cause I don't really see why he'd need a phone if he can't really use it properly…" he continued and Matthew rolled his eyes at his cousin.

"Phones are used for so much more now these days—games, texting, calculators, just, stuff. I guess he just has one just for the benefit of having one," Matthew pointed out as he sent his text message. Letting his hands drop into his lap, Matthew stole the can of Cola from Alfred, popping it open for himself.

"Wha—? Hey! That's mine!" Alfred whined as he watched Matthew drink from it. He smiled and waved a hand in the air. With a huff, Alfred got out of his spot once more to get another soda for himself, sitting a good distance from his cousin this time. The two finished their sodas, Matthew texting Francis who was, luckily, replying to his messages. "So Mattie, since I can see that you've successfully contacted Frenchie, is he coming?"

"Apparently not," Matthew sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm gonna go drive over to his place and just hang out with him—he sounds kinda grumpy right now."

"Then why hang out with him? Nobody really wants to be around a cranky person…" Alfred questioned cocking an eyebrow.

"Well…sometimes they just need someone to be with them—I have a feeling Francis doesn't really have someone to sit with him when he's upset, so I've decided to change that," he declared, jumping out of the truck bed. "He just needs company."

"That's nice of you," Alfred smiled and Matthew mirrored the facial expression.

"Yeah. It is."

III

Francis was the one who answered the door when Matthew knocked on it three times. "Uh…may I come in?" he asked, peeking further into Francis's home. It was clean and he spotted a cat sitting atop a dresser as well as a small Toy Poodle sleeping in a dog bed. Francis seemed to ponder over his answer before stepping aside, letting the Canadian in. "Your pets?"

Francis smiled this time and nodded his head. He pointed at the cat before pointing at his chest and Matthew nodded his head, getting the signal that the cat was his. He then pointed to the dog and held three fingers up before pointing them at the ground to form the letter 'M'. "And the dog's your mom's."

He nodded his head as he led Matthew to his room. When they entered, Matthew grinned at the friendly look Francis's room gave off. There was a stereo system atop the dresser that was pushed up against the wall, his bed was full size and a rather nicely sized window on the opposite side from where Matthew was standing. It was carpeted and a few books had been left on the floor while the rest were sitting in a bookcase, a few bookends pressed up against some to keep them from tipping over. The light was in the middle of the room and another door led into what was likely a bathroom. He could now see why Arthur said Francis liked to dance—there were quite a few CD's stacked in the bookcase along with an iPod sitting on a dock.

"Heard you liked music," Matthew pointed out as he stopped in the middle of the room to examine it further. He found a scratch post in the corner—obviously for the cat that he saw earlier. It was a cool temperature too in a pleasing way. Looking over to the door he had just come through, Matthew spotted a thermostat that was set to a good temperature for this time of the year—school was going to end in just under a month.

Francis nodded his head in response to Matthew's earlier statement as he walked over to the stereo system. Matthew approached the bookcase and examined the CD's stacked atop each other. There was Adele, Bruno Mars, he recognized Mika and even found a few jazz CD's. He remembered how Alfred had gone through a rather uncharacteristic jazz phase back in their last years of middle school—about two or three years ago. "Hey, when did you get these ones? The jazz ones?" he was curious because Francis didn't seem like the kind to fancy jazz.

He held up three fingers and Matthew grinned at the coincidence. "Ah…Al went through a jazz phase about three years ago too…just thought it was a coincidence," he chuckled. Francis grinned and took out a notebook, fishing out a pencil as well.

_It hapened just when I moved here_

He smiled and nodded his head. "So, wanna listen to anything?" he asked, still grinning at Francis who nodded his head happily, trotting over to him and searching his CD collection before pulling one out and going over to the stereo system. Popping in the CD, Francis changed the track before bounding over to Matthew with the notebook in his hands.

_I havent lisened to jazz in a wile. Do you now how to dance to it? I can teach you if you dont._

"No, in fact I don't to be truthful," Matthew smiled. Francis grinned and offered his hand. Matthew knew that it wasn't going to be slow, but also knew it wasn't going to be extremely fast—he would have to put some energy into it though. Even though the dance was slightly out dated, Matthew found himself enjoying (and tripping over) himself as he and Francis danced around each other, the latter teaching him how to do a few things. He picked up on it naturally though from having seen Alfred and Arthur dance to jazz not too long ago when Alfred had felt the need to listen to said genre again much like Francis was at the moment.

They ended the dance with a fancy twirl that seemed a bit awkward giving that the move belonged to a different genre of music. Matthew was slightly panting while Francis seemed like he hadn't even broken a sweat—which was very likely because he was so active. Out of nowhere, they had drawn closer to each other and their lips met in a soft kiss that was warm and made Matthew's heart jump into his throat.

His mind went blank before he felt gravity working its magic and his back collided with the carpeted ground—it still hurt. He let out a surprised yelp when he hit the ground, Francis looking absolutely shocked at likely, both kissing him and dropping him. He opened his mouth as if he were about to say something once more, likely an apology before he shut it and simply helped Matthew up with a sheepish grin and a small blush.

"N-no, no, i-it's fine, honest…" Matthew stuttered, feeling the temperature rising dramatically mainly in his cheeks. His fingers began trembling as if it were the dead of winter and he suddenly lost his own voice, having nothing to say, all he could do was spout absolute nonsense. Francis laughed silently, literally, and he placed a finger over Matthew's lips in a gesture for him to stop speaking. Nodding his head numbly, Matthew shut up. He couldn't help but notice the slightly troubled look in Francis's eyes, but didn't worry about it for the moment—he'd just kissed the athlete and it was amazing. His heart was still racing and Matthew might as well be on cloud nine.

He had decided to excuse himself from Francis's home and left, the French teen looking a bit disappointed at Matthew's decision. When he stepped out into the hot summer air, Matthew held a hand over his heart that felt like it was stuck in his throat. A grin stretched his lips and he lifted his other hand to the area over his heart. He didn't care if he was being girly at the moment—Alfred had always said Matthew was kind of feminine anyways. He let out happy laughter and bounder over to his car. Even though it seemed like a rushed conclusion, Matthew figured that he was in love with Francis.

III

"Wow, congrats dude," Alfred grinned as he and Matthew sat in the bleachers, Alfred waiting for the rest of his football team to arrive. "Did you kiss him, or did he kiss you?" he then asked, the question making Matthew blush slightly.

"H-he kissed me…and it was out of nowhere—we were just dancing to some jazz and when it was over we just…it just happened," he mulled dreamily. Oh God, he was being such a girl, it was quite embarrassing. Alfred chuckled and clapped his cousin almost proudly on the shoulder.

"Dude, that's super similar to my first kiss with Artie~!" he grinned. "Remember that day you saw us dancing to some jazz?"

"Y-you knew I was there?" Matthew asked. At first he had assumed that the two hadn't noticed him peeking into Alfred's room.

"Yeah, you were being all stalker, but that's okay, anyways, yeah, it was super similar to your case," he grinned, glancing up at the sky as if he were reminiscing, which was very likely. "Hah! Dude, I totally dropped him when I noticed what I was doing!"

"Oh, Francis dropped me too…" Matthew laughed lightly, a joyful blush dusting his cheeks. "It hurt, but…yeah."

"Hah, Artie got a bit angry at me—he was blushing and all of that shit and stuttering, ah, it was hilarious, but I didn't laugh at him because it'd just ruin the moment," Alfred grinned and Matthew nodded his head, still smiling. He obviously hadn't gotten angry like Arthur, but he did get extremely flustered.

Matthew glanced off to his side when Alfred began waving excitedly to someone. He grinned at the sight of Francis and Arthur approaching the bleachers, Arthur chatting rather animatedly with his French friend while Francis listened. Every now and then, Francis would make a gesture that would get Arthur irritated and he'd grin toothily at the Briton that reminded Matthew of the phrase Alfred just _loved_ to use: "You mad bro?"

The two stepped up the steps of the bleachers until they were next to the two cousins. "Hello Alfred," Arthur nodded his head, sitting down next to his boyfriend. "It's very nice out."

"Hell yeah it is—I can't wait for school to end! We don't have much longer!" he grinned. "The next game's our last."

"Oh, same here, Francis has two more track meets before they're done," Arthur announced and Alfred tugged him into a one armed hug, kissing him on the temple. "Aren't you supposed to be down there?" Arthur then asked, pointing down to the field just as the opposing team arrived. Alfred muttered under his breath about Arthur being a killjoy before kissing him on the lips this time and bounding down the bleachers.

"So uh…hey…" Matthew greeted the best he could as his cheeks became extremely warm as the memory of their kiss flashed into his mind. "Uh…how're you?" he continued awkwardly as Francis fidgeted next to him, though not out of nervousness or discomfort. He seemed a bit more concerned and even curious about something.

When Francis looked at him in the eye, Matthew could also see a bit of sadness in them. "Whoa, what's wrong Francis?" he asked. Francis was either having second thoughts about the incident yesterday, or he was already with someone else—Matthew couldn't come up with anything else other than those and they both broke his heart. Arthur watched for a brief moment before leaving to give the two some privacy. "A-are—what's up?"

Francis grinned sheepishly and flapped his fingers in a talking gesture—he then crossed his two index fingers in front of each other, making an X before pointing at his chest. Matthew took a moment to translate what Francis was trying to say to him before raising his eyebrows. "Yeah, I know you can't talk," he remarked, voice matter-of-fact. Francis then furrowed his eyebrows, pondering over how to 'say' what he wanted to say next.

He then pointed at his chest again with a thumb and Matthew nodded his head. Francis then began to adopt a rather frustrated expression as he brainstormed how to gesture what he had on mind. He threw his hands out to his sides in a 'you see?' gesture, eyebrows furrowed. "Wai-wait, I don't know what you're trying to say…!"

He pointed at his chest once more, made the talking gesture and crossed his index fingers again. Francis pointed at Matthew before motioning to himself for a third time and crossing his index fingers. Matthew struggled to put together sentences for Francis, a headache surfacing from the strain he was applying. "Are…are you saying we won't work together…? W-wait Francis, okay, I'm sorry if I did something or…something, but why won't things work in between us? I-I mean, I'm sorry if I offend you at times and, and—" Matthew babbled only to be interrupted by Francis who was quickly waving his hands in a 'no-no' gesture.

Francis looked around, spotting a few people in the bleachers along with Arthur, but nothing else that would've seemed useful to him. With a heavy exhale, Francis sat still for a moment, likely cooling himself down before pointing his chest calmly. "You…" he pointed at someone eating a doughnut, watching the two football teams' exercise intently. "Doughnut?"

Francis made a U shape with his hand before crossing his fingers. "Don't," Matthew picked up on that one immediately—he wouldn't have been able to pick that one up on a normal day. Francis held up both hands and made a D shape. This one took a bit for Matthew to understand even though it was horribly obvious. "De," he pointed at the guy eating the doughnut again. "Doughnut?"

Shaking his head, Francis reinforced his 'statement' by pointing at the guy again. "Watch?" a shake of the head. "Stare?" another no. "…Observe…?" Francis gave him a thumbs up before making an O with both hands. He then held up two fingers before crossing his index fingers again. "Serve," Matthew cut off the first two letters since it was the first thing that came to mind. Francis nodded his head and made the D again before pointing at the guy. "Uh…Deserve…?"

Matthew had a vague idea where this was headed, but let Francis finish. The athlete pointed a finger at Matthew. "Me," Francis then repeated the 'I can't talk' gestures and Matthew furrowed his eyes. "You don't deserve someone like me because you can't talk?" yup, that's what Matthew had originally assumed. Francis then pointed to his eyes as if pointing out his colorblindness would make his statement more sensual. "No, don't say that…"

Francis glanced down at his feet and shook his head. He pointed at Matthew before holding up two fingers. That followed up with 'good' spelt out with Francis's hands, four fingers and then Francis pointing at himself. "No…I'm not too good for you…" Matthew tried to convince Francis, though his throat was becoming slightly dry.

Francis pointed at Matthew's eyes, frustration evident in his own. Matthew blinked a few times before realizing that Francis wasn't 'talking' about him being able to register colors, but was asking him what color his eyes were. Don't ask him how he got that one—Matthew just felt that that was the case. "…Al says they're purple…another friend says they're blue…so we say that they're in between," Matthew muttered. He obviously knew that Francis registered his eyes as a shade of grey and felt a cold sadness creep over him. Francis would never know that the color blue wasn't some shade of grey, he'd never know that the grass was green in the spring and even a bit brown in the summer when it was dry. He probably saw fireworks as bright white lights, but that was it while Matthew and Alfred saw that they were a huge plethora of colors.

He glanced down at his own feet guiltily. He didn't know whether he should listen to Francis or not. "I-I don't know what to say Francis…" Matthew muttered, chancing a glance at Francis. Blind people's eyes were a strange milky grey, but that wasn't the case with the colorblind. Either that or Francis was an exception—his eyes were a lively blue that clearly reflected what he was feeling like the purest of water. Francis probably didn't see that in the mirror either. "I'm…" he couldn't exactly say he was sorry. "I-I," he probably would sound like he was rushing things if he said what he wanted to say. "I l-love you Francis…I c-can't exactly just agree with you…"

Francis's eyebrows rose in interest, though he didn't look too shocked. He then smiled and lent forward to place small kiss on Matthew's lips before standing up and jogging down the steps of the bleachers they were seated on. "W-wait where are you going?"

Looking down to the field, Matthew noticed that the game has started. Looking back to where Francis was standing, he noticed that the athlete wasn't there anymore. He glanced off to his left, catching a glimpse of Francis who was jogging away.

"What happened?" Arthur asked as he seated himself next to Matthew. "Why'd Francis just up and leave?"

"…I…I don't know…"

III

The next few days, Matthew pondered over why Francis got the idea of not being good enough for him into his head, wondered why the French teen was avoiding him, and pondered some more. He hadn't seen him in a while and soon enough, one week of school remained.

Walking quickly down the hallways, Matthew headed straight for Arthur's last class once more in hopes of catching Francis before he had completely left the building. Hiking his backpack further up his back, Matthew turned a corner just as Arthur walked out of the classroom. He smiled sheepishly and waved towards Matthew. "He just left…"

"Oh…that's a shame. Uh, maybe I can catch him tomorrow hopefully—might have to run…" Matthew grinned back at Arthur and glanced up when his cousin greeted the two enthusiastically.

"Sup guys? Frenchie avoiding you again Mattie?" Alfred asked. Matthew muttered and stared gloomily down at his feet—he swore a storm cloud appeared over his head. "Uh…sorry…" at least he was reading the atmosphere at the moment. He looked like he wanted to kiss Arthur, but refrained from doing so in respect of Matthew's problem.

"Hey…actually, I'm going to try to visit him tonight instead of waiting," Matthew announced, rubbing his upper arm in a nervous gesture. "Hey Arthur—do you know what's wrong?"

"Oh, he's just…being from France and despite what they say—he's the _perfect_ stereotype. I mean, you probably don't think that now because he's really nice to you, and I mean a _nice_ nice, not a flirty nice. So, since he's all about…l'amour," Arthur went as far as putting on an obviously fake French accent. Alfred grinned and hugged Arthur, laughing about how funny he sounded as a 'Frenchie'. "…He thinks he can make things perfect for you—I don't know, I have no idea how to put it in words…"

"No, no, I know what you're saying…" Matthew shook his head. "B-but…but it's not 'perfect'," he continued. "I don't know anyone else I'd rather be with…" he turned pink at the declaration. Alfred grinned at his cousin, one arm slung around Arthur's shoulder.

"C'mon Mattie, we'll drive ya there right now," Alfred offered and Arthur cocked an eyebrow up at the American.

"What made you think I was coming with you?" Arthur questioned and Alfred laughed boisterously.

"'Cause I know you're not coldhearted like that~!" he grinned and proceeded with dragging Arthur away, waving for Matthew to follow them. "Artie, please tell me you'll follow me?" he then asked as they walked out into the parking lot.

"More like you'll be following me…" Arthur muttered as he pried his wrist out of Alfred's grip and stormed off to his car as Alfred headed over to his truck. Matthew stepped into his car, it being a tiny, inexpensive one his mother had been nice enough to buy for him.

The three of them followed Arthur since Alfred didn't know Francis's address and eventually they were all parked outside of Francis's home. "A'ight Mattie! Go get 'im! While you're off making mends with Frenchie, Artie and I will be having some fun~!" Alfred called from his window, head poking out.

Arthur rolled his window down and stuck his own head out. "Shut up!"

Matthew grinned at the interaction the two messy haired blonds were displaying before killing the engine to his car and stepping out. "Okay—you two do whatever you want, I'll talk with Francis…hey Al, wanna have a get together first real day of summer break?"

"Hell yeah! I'll buy water balloons and everything—just you see!" Alfred grinned, sticking a hand out so he could give Matthew a thumb up. "Hear that Artie? We're gonna have a party!"

"Ugh…just…never mind," Arthur sighed and the two drove off, yelling back and forth to each other as they drove. Dropping his smile, Matthew sighed, looked up at the house that was Francis's. He approached the door and knocked on it and this time, instead of Francis, a taller man answered it. He did look a bit like Francis though, but Matthew could easily spot the differences.

"Hm. Qui êtes-vous?" he asked, looking a bit tired. Luckily for Matthew, he vaguely understood French, having one year under his belt. For some reason though, he couldn't shake the feeling of irritation at the question.

"I-I'm Matthew Williams—a friend of Francis Bonnefoy…Uh, may I see him?" he didn't bother with speaking French though—he didn't know enough to construct complex sentences. "Uh…Angle?" he asked—at least he knew 'English' in French.

He frowned slightly down at Matthew before stepping aside to let him in. "English—yes, sort of," his voice was heavy with the French accent.

"That's good…" Matthew sighed, hesitantly stepping inside of the building. Last time he had felt rather welcome, now, he felt like an intruder that wasn't intent on coming in. He didn't see the cat or the dog either this time. "I-I'm just going to go talk with Francis okay…?"

"Bien, bien (2)," he waved a hand dismissively and Matthew headed straight for Francis's room. Swallowing, he tapped on the door softly.

"U-uh, Francis? You in there? It's me…Matthew," he called softly. It probably wasn't easily heard through the door though with how quiet he was being and he considered trying again when Francis opened the door, a curious look on his features. Matthew grinned at the French athlete and he just noticed that he was taller than Francis—apparently the height ran in the family.

Francis grinned sheepishly at him and Matthew assumed that he was saying something along the lines of 'sorry for avoiding you lately'. He stepped aside and let Matthew in before pointing at Matthew and then at the ground before shrugging his shoulders in a questioning gesture. "Why am I here? I was worried…"

He picked up the notebook and pencil, shoulders drooping slightly.

_At first I thougt you actualy beleived me…_

Matthew read it as he seated himself on the full size bed. "Well I didn't—you were avoiding me…" Matthew muttered under his breath as he read the sloppy writing that contrasted Francis's personality. "So I got a bit worried…" he continued, glancing at Francis without an upturn of the corners of his lips. "Arthur said knowing you, you're trying to make everything 'perfect' for me…"

_Well you ARE more deserving of some one that can actualy see colors and talk back to you._

"Are you upset about being unable to talk with me?"

_In a way._

"…But," Matthew smiled serenely at Francis. "I like it more than actually talking to someone…" he then glanced down at the notebook in the French teen's lap. "I mean…heh…it's kind of like when I used to talk with my stuffed polar bear, just that you actually have an opinion—don't get me wrong! I'm not 'using' you or anything…"

_I can under stand._

He smiled in slight humor. "Understand is one word Francis…" he muttered before looking back up at Francis as he handed the notebook to him. Francis grinned sheepishly and knocked himself on the head in a 'stupid me' gesture.

_Understand. Their, happy?_

"And you used the wrong there…"

_Well sorry, the English languag's realy confusing with all of your strange spelling._

"Nah, I think French's pretty weird too," Matthew grinned. "But anyways, I like talking with you better because well…you just have a better respect for the things you have from what I see," he continued with a shake of his head. "Nobody that can talk knows what it's like to be unable to do so unless they suddenly go mute like…" he was about to finish the sentence with 'you', but reminded himself that Francis hadn't told him how he became a mute personally. "Like out of nowhere. And you're just really nice, you're not like…really sad or excessively self-loathing because of it and…Oh, I don't know how to explain it…"

_I now what your trieing to say._

"That's a good thing. So…can you stop like…avoiding me or whatever you're doing?" Matthew asked, looking hopefully at Francis.

_Bien, bien, je t'aime._

"Wha—?" he was clearly more shocked at that than Francis had been a few days ago as Francis pressed his lips against Matthews. This time, there was no interruption like Francis dropping Matthew—instead, Matthew was gently pushed back onto the bed and he was completely fine with that, though he was still a bit shocked. He heart swelled in his chest and gripped the front of Francis's shirt tightly. The kiss was amazingly warm and tender and full of l'amour as Arthur might say with his hilarious French-British hybrid of an accent. Matthew sometimes would wonder why Arthur had a British accent.

They separated and Francis smiled down at Matthew a strong emotion shining in his bright blue eyes and Matthew had become captivated with. Grinning dopily himself, Matthew tugged Francis down into a hug. He then rolled them over so that he was straddling the athlete as he began fiddling with the collar to his T-shirt. "Y-you're pretty…" he blushed as he spoke his mind. Francis's soft smile became broad and he began laughing voicelessly. It was a strange wheeze and Matthew could only blush further in embarrassment. "Sh-should I use a different adjective?"

Francis shook his head, still smiling up at Matthew and he grinned sheepishly down at the French athlete. "S-so are we good then?" Matthew then asked and Francis nodded his head. A euphoric grin replaced the sheepish one and he hugged Francis excitedly, thanking him in the process. Matthew sat up once more and rolled off of Francis, landing on his back next to the French teen. "So—should we tell Al and Arthur, or should we just let them figure it out?"

Francis grinned and waved a hand in the air dismissively and Matthew assumed that it was the latter. Matthew grinned and Francis leant forward for a kiss. He then pulled Matthew closer so that they were hugging again.

Even though they've only known each other for a week and a few days, Matthew was completely fine with getting into a relationship so quickly with Francis. Alfred had moved pretty fast with Arthur, so why shouldn't he? And even though Francis couldn't talk, sometimes, Matthew felt that he could—not literally. Like assumed earlier, Francis probably had an even wider range of emotional gestures than Alfred did—that was his language. He didn't care whether Francis saw his eyes as dark blue or violet, he preferred that Francis not know, there was already enough confusion over the color of his eyes. Even though he was lacking color and speech, Matthew loved him.

XXXX

**(1) Music Café – Lol, it's an actual class at my school. I'm signing up for it 'cause it sounds super fun. You get to play traditional drums and then just…stuff. I dunno. :P**

**(2) "Bien, bien" – That ain't Spanish my friends :P Fine in Spanish is 'vale'. **

** Lol, to be truthful, I actually prefer Francis on bottom because…yeah…:3 Lol, the ending was a fail, fail, fail. Oh well, guess I shouldn't complain since…bleh. I complain too much in real life, you don't have to listen to me. This took a while to dish out and I just proof read it, so yeah, please review, love to hear what you have to say and peace out my friends :D**

**Fun Fact: Instead of pointing at their chests when mentioning themselves, the Japanese point at their noses.**


End file.
